


Whole Foods

by quokkall



Category: NCIS
Genre: AU, F/M, Pizza Shop, TIVA - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 15:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quokkall/pseuds/quokkall
Summary: AU; Ziva works at a pizza shop and is concerned about Tony's elevated pizza consumption (tiva-ish)





	Whole Foods

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I’m pretty sure no one has ever looked at one of my fic titles and thought, “ooh, sounds interesting”...
> 
> Anyhoo, Tiva AU based on the prompt: You come in here all the time. Like, really, all the time. Arteries who? You’re always nice and you tip well, but I’m worried about your elevated pizza consumption, so one day as I’m giving you your change I suggest that you try the Whole Foods one of these days… it’s literally right across the street, so maybe you’d like that… for a change… You grin at me and ask “Well do you work at Whole Foods, too?”

* * *

“You have been here practically every evening for the past month,” Ziva says as she hands Tony his change.

“I’m very Italian,” he says, mock-arrogance lacing his voice.

She knows not to take him too seriously, and stares him down for a moment.

In fluent Italian she asks him where he would keep his gun and badge if he went  to work wearing nothing but lingerie and high heels. His frown smooths out as quickly as it appeared, the smile she has gotten addicted to over the past few weeks slides in place as a casual “Si” slips from his lips.

Ziva chuckles. “Not all that Italian, then.”

Tony huffs, “Fine, my Italian is a bit rusty.”

“I am not worried about your Italian, I am worried about your arteries.”

He sits up straighter, and she can’t help but smile at the twinkle that suddenly lights up his eyes.

“So, you’re worried about me?”

His ego needs to be taken down a notch, and, well, she is not used to sharing her feelings. “You are a good tipper, and my car needs a new set of tires.”

Tony clutches his chest dramatically. “I knew you only liked me for my money.”

As much as she enjoys joking around with him, his eating habits  _are_ worrisome. She glances over her shoulder at the mostly empty restaurant, then slides into the seat across from him.

“Perhaps you should try shopping at Whole Foods tomorrow.” She points at the store across the street. “Your heart will thank you for it.”

He gazes through the window, then meets her eyes again, a cheeky grin plastered on his lips.

“Unless you work at Whole Foods too, my heart won’t thank me at all.”

Ziva bites the insides of her cheeks, smiling at the comment will only encourage him, and even though her car does indeed need new tires, she is mostly worried about his health. Nice customers are hard to come by; nice customers who are also funny and handsome, even harder.

“Tomorrow is my day off, so you will not miss me, anyway,” she says matter-of-factly, wiping down her side of the table.

“Oh, I will miss you,” he says, giving her a puppy dog look.

He lays it on so thick it is clear he does not expect it to affect her. And it should not affect her—it would not have affected her had it been anyone else—and yet, here she is, trying to steel her expression and act casual while her insides melt into a puddle of warm fuzzy feelings.

She resists the urge to wrinkle her nose at the thought.

His gaze drifts towards the window once more, and in a contemplative tone he says, “Do they sell frozen pizza?”

Ziva briefly closes her eyes—he cannot be serious—and is about to chide him when she notices the corner of his mouth twitch. She narrows her eyes and catches him glance her way imperceptibly.

He may not have been serious about the frozen pizza, but perhaps it is time to move the flirty banter along and figure out whether he is even remotely serious about her.

“It sounds like you will need someone to guide you through the store.”

Tony turns towards her, a hopeful look on his face. “Are you offering?” Clearly taken aback by his own candor he quickly mocks, “I would hate to get lost there, it looks so green and healthy and happy.”

Ziva chortles, “You are a cop, I am sure you will survive.”

“Yes, but how do I explain arresting an uncooperative pumpkin to my boss.”

It is all fun and games on the surface, but there is an unasked question dancing behind the gleam in his eyes. Eyes she could drown in. And the longer she stares the more she realizes she wants to know who is hiding behind that façade of easy jokes and flirty banter. Because it is clear she has only scratched the surface, so far.

The door chime signifies the arrival of a new customer and the end of her wordless conversation with Tony. Ziva stands up, smooths her apron with her hands, takes the empty dishes from the table, and feels his eyes follow her every move.

She leans in closer and searches his eyes one last time.

“I will meet you at Whole Foods at 7 PM.” She turns to make her way towards the counter, then glances back, and says, “And I will cook, I have a feeling you would end up accidentally poisoning yourself.”


End file.
